


Untitled

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is caught spying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to move all my old fic from Livejournal to here. Some of this stuff is very old, so yeah...

The hallway was dark and the sound of laughter, chatting and clinking crystal glasses floated out from the sitting room. The door was almost closed and only a narrow strip of light fell upon the hallway floor. Draco was crouched just outside the door, peeking inside the dimly lit sitting room. He couldn't see much, only a few people launched on the massive leather couch, but he didn't dare to push the door more open than he already had. It was far past his bedtime and he didn't want to get caught.

Draco didn't have to see the entire room to be able to know what went on in there; the women would be gathered in one end, sitting in a circle of chairs and couches and small glass tables, drinking cocktails and cackling happily away about fashion, their husbands and gossip on whoever wasn't present. The men would be huddled up in the opposite end of the room, usually standing leaned against the wall or the back of a couch, smoking cigars, drinking whiskey or brandy and talking about politics, money or their wives. It was the same every time his parents threw one of their dinner parties.  
Draco was only allowed to be present at the dinner, acting like the perfect pureblood son, of course, and once dessert had been served and devoured he was taken upstairs by his father and put to bed like a good boy.

But Draco could never sleep. He was simply too curious as to what was going on downstairs and he would almost always sneak out of bed to spy through the door leading from the dining room into the sitting room.  
He couldn't understand anything the adults talked about, but it was fun to watch them when they thought they were unwatched. They acted completely different, laughing loudly, joking around, drinking and smoking, and once Draco even saw two people kissing each other in the dark corner of the upstairs hallway.  
He had never been caught yet, but that was mostly because he had ordered Dobby to stand watch for him and distract anyone who might be heading his way until he could fly swiftly back to bed.

Draco blinked; someone was poking him urgently in the chest and whispering his name in squeaky voice.

“Master Draco! Master Draco!”

it was Dobby and he looked positively terrified. So terrified that Draco couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

“Stop poking me. What is it, elf?”

“Master Draco fell asleep,” Dobby whined in a whisper. “And someone is coming this way.”

This wiped the smirk off Draco's face and he got up to the clear sound of two sets of footsteps approaching. Had Draco been older, he would probably have cursed. Instead he flew down the hallway as quietly as possible. The only problem was that the sound of footsteps were coming from the direction of his room, so he had no choice but to hide somewhere else.  
Draco, only dressed in his pyjamas, flew through the first door he saw and ended up in the small adjourning room to the entrance hall. There were really any places to hide, the room was only used for keeping guests' coats whenever a larger party was thrown. In the corner of the small room, besides a full-sized mirror a couch stood, covered in coats, and Draco's only choice was to crawl under them and curl up into the smallest ball possible.  
And so, there he was, hiding under heavy fur coats which all smelled of expensive perfumes, hoping that this wasn't the place the footsteps were headed.

To his dread, however, the door opened a few moments late and two people who were mumbling in hushed voices, entered the room. Draco instantly recognised the drawl of his father and he curled up even more while holding his breath. The other voice belonged to a man which Draco knew to be someone named Avery.

Draco couldn't quite make out what they were saying, the coats muffled most of the sound, but he was sure he heard the words Ministry and secret-keeping.

It was hot under the layer of fur and soon Draco had to start breathing even though that didn't help him for very long. Oxygen was sparse and Draco had to clench his teeth hard together in the effort not to start snapping for his breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Avery left, but his father still remained in the room, apparently looking for a few minutes of peace before heading back to the party. Draco squirmed ever so slightly and tried to poke his nose out from the under the coast before he was suffocated, but suddenly, out of nowhere, he was squashed by something from above.

Draco let out a yelp and the weight disappeared as suddenly as is had appeared, followed by a “What the hell?”  
The coats were yanked off him, and Draco looked up into his father's surprised face. Normally Draco would have been cowering because he knew he'd been caught doing something he knew he shouldn't, but he was too relieved by the taste of fresh air which he breathed in greedily.

“Draco? What on earth are you doing?”

At that, Draco's eyes snapped back to Lucius, and then he lowered his head and prepared himself for being yelled at.

“I was hiding, Father. I'm sorry.”

“Hiding? From what?”

Draco shrugged, blushing with shame even though his father didn't exactly sound angry. Not yet, anyway. “Nothing, Father,” he mumbled quietly. “I was just...”

“Yes?” Lucius pressed on.

“I was watching your party,” Draco then admitted. “I thought it sounded like fun, so I wanted to watch. And then I hear someone coming and I hid here.”

 

“Hmm,” his father hummed and watched the cognac in the large glass between his fingers. “Did you hear me talk with Avery?”

Draco nodded. It would only make his father angry if he lied now.

“Did you understand what we were talking about?”

“No, I couldn't hear properly, Father.”

“Good. It wasn't meant for little boys' ears.”

The tone of Lucius' voice remained neutral and slightly surprised, and Draco shifted a bit on the couch, not really sure what to do. Had this been his mother, she would have already dragged him to his room with a painful grip to his upper arm and told him to stay there until he learned how to behave.

“Are you angry with me, Father? Was I being a bad boy?” Draco finally gathered the courage to ask when his father didn't seem to do anything but look at him.

A deep, soft chuckling spread in the room at that question. “No, I'm not angry,” his father then said. “But yes, you were being a very bad and naughty boy.”

“I'm sorry, Father,” Draco said again. “I won't do it again, I promise.”

Lucius seemed to consider him for a moment before taking a sip of his glass and licking in his lips.

“Stand up,” he said calmly. “And take off your pyjamas.”

Draco nodded and got up -he rarely questioned a direct order from his father- and began unbuttoning the front of his clothes. As the pyjamas was in one piece, it simply fell to the floor to pool around his ankles once he had pushed it off his shoulders, and Draco stood there, bare-naked, and looked up at his father.

“Good boy,” Lucius said with a note of purr in his deep voice. “Now, just stand still.” He placed the glass on the small table next to the couch and picked up one of the fur coats. Then he knelt down before Draco, who was watching curiously, all shame and embarrassment forgotten, and draped the heavy coat over Draco's small shoulders.

It felt almost too heavy, and Draco' knees buckled for a second before he managed to stabilise himself. Lucius merely chuckled again and got up. “Don't you look handsome,” he hummed before leaning down to take Draco up into his arms.  
The fur coat acted as a thick, warm blanket wrapped around Draco's body, and before he knew it, Draco was snuggling into his father's embrace and the soft fur.

“Doesn't that feel much nicer than the pyjamas?” Lucius asked while he pushed said pyjamas under the couch with the tip of his boot.

“Yes, Father,” Draco replied. “Much nicer.”

“Nothing's too good for Daddy's special boy,” was the hummed reply, and then Lucius turned and left the room to carry his son up the stairs.

“Am I your special boy, Daddy?” Draco asked in a whisper, leaning his head against his father's shoulder.

“Of course you are,” Lucius whispered back with a smile. “You are my very special boy.”

When they entered Draco's bedroom, he was gently let down on his bed where he instantly snuggled up in the coat while Lucius sat down beside him.

“How does the fur feel against your skin?” he hummed while stroking slowly down Draco's body through the coat. “Soft?”

“Yes, Father,” Draco nodded. “Very soft.” He suddenly felt slightly out of breath, and his father had that look in his eyes he often had whenever Draco and he were alone together.

Lucius' hand paused just before that certain place on his body that his mother had told Draco never to touch because that wasn't proper behaviour of a pureblood heir, and Draco chewed on his bottom lip as that thing between his legs, which his mother referred to as a thingy, started to feel really hot.  
When his father's hand moved again, gliding slowly over Draco's thingy, it gave an odd little jerk and Draco couldn't hold back a soft sigh.

Evidently it was time for little boys to sleep now, or at least, that's what Draco's heard his father mutter before he got up and left the room rather quickly. Draco wondered whose coat he was snuggled up in and if his father had gotten angry because his thingy had moved. But the next morning Lucius was behaving as usual, although he did give Draco an extra long good morning kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this.


End file.
